


The Full Wham!

by rispacooper



Category: Psych
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Dom/sub, Dress Up, First Time, M/M, Rough Sex, Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-25
Updated: 2011-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 22:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rispacooper/pseuds/rispacooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a public restroom, Carlton in the Uniform, and Shawn dressed like George Michael circa 1984. Commentfic porn that makes little to no sense. The original thread is here (http://plainapple.livejournal.com/11249.html?thread=248561#t248561) if you would like explanation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Full Wham!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plainapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plainapple/gifts).



Lassiter peers around the last metal stall and blinks when he sees Spencer crouched on the toilet seat like he was trying to hide. Though he could also just be taken aback by Spencer in the oversize heavy white sweater with "Choose Life" written across it and the short shorts in some neon orangey-pink color or the bare legs or the white, white sports socks scrunched down over the equally glaring white tennis shoes.

Spencer's hair is...Spencer's hair...entirely another matter.

He looks ridiculous. Only more so when he straightens up and jumps down to stand in front of Carlton. That's what Carlton tells himself. And not that he's reliving that awful period in the 80's when he'd had a crush on George Michael.

Spencer's gaze sweeps up and down his body--a few times--and Carlton remembers that due to the shortage of manpower and the killer on the loose, even detectives were in uniform to help patrol.

Spencer's expression is...exactly what Carlton would expect it to be when confronted by a cop in a public men's room. He gapes anyway, because Spencer does a little tap on the floor with his feet, a signal neither of them should know, and grins and it's stupid and dangerous, and worse than that--cliché--but Carlton pulls his billy club and swings it up to knock out the light, and then he's got Spencer tight against the metal walls and breathing hard in the dark.

"I cannot believe you are dressed like this to catch a killer," he pants, shoving down short shorts and grabbing a handful of ass.

"But Officer, I had to go full Wham!" Shawn whines, moans, and then he's just grunting, babbling.

It's fucking dark and hot and Spencer, Shawn, of course won't stop talking. The last thing Carlton needs is to get busted for this by one of the other undercover officers--or to attract a killer's attention.

On the other hand, it's kind of flattering how quickly Spencer's puns drop off into moans, and Carlton's only been fingering him for a few minutes.

It makes him want to talk dirty, and he's never been into that.

He's never been into public restroom sex either--much--and yet here is Spencer in his silly outfit with his gasping "Do me, Officer Hardbody!"s, proving Carlton wrong with each rasping, desperate inhale.

But seriously, as flattering as "Fuck yeah get it oh you put the boom boom into my heart!" was, Shawn needed to shut the fuck up, now.

Since orders to that effect have yet to work, ever, Carlton takes a moment, reaching blindly for the first thing he can think of and then bringing it up and turning it sideways.

Spencer goes still, shocked for one moment, breathing hard with the club in his mouth. Too late, Carlton thinks how frightening that might be, but his hold on it doesn't weaken, and Shawn finally shudders, nodding and dropping his head.

He pushes back against Carlton in the next second, demanding more, and Carlton can't help it, he seeks out the back of Shawn's neck in the dark and lets Shawn hear his hot, heavy breathing as he unzips his fly and takes out his cock.

He doesn't have anything, not good for slick anyway, though the old condom in his wallet is at least lubricated. Carlton fumbles with it, impatient, swearing, and realizes belatedly that he left the club in Shawn's mouth as a gag, as a _bit_ , part of his brain thinks, but Shawn hasn't removed it.

He's just grunting around it, maybe biting down though Carlton hasn't done anything yet. His body is moving, rocking slowly, in these small shifts that Carlton can just feel. He's impatient, he wants it now, and fuck, Carlton gives it him.

He rolls the condom on and spits into his hands, which is gross, somehow, though he's in a dirty public bathroom doing obscene things with Shawn Spencer and his own spit should be the least of his worries, but he gets his palm wet, his fingers, and drops his hand again to spread Spencer open, then he pushes in, gritting his teeth to go slow.

Spencer makes this noise around his gag, around that bit, and Carlton flashes back to "Officer Hardbody" and reaches around to verify just how hard Spencer is for this. He wonders how much Shawn would have liked the cuffs too, and it's wrong, so wrong, symbolic of an abuse of power, but fuck, Carlton wants to abuse that power, abuse Spencer.

He slides in the rest of the way, rough, and puts one hand to Spencer's hip to hold him still and wraps the other around the end of the billy club to hold it in place.

His face is against Spencer's neck and Spencer breathes out, pants, offers him a muffled moan as Carlton starts to fuck him. Hard.

Shawn, Spencer, is tight and easy at the same time. Carlton digs his fingers into Shawn's bare hip, and opens his mouth at how Shawn doesn't speak, but pushes back, giving him just what he wants, what they both want.

Tight. Tight, he thinks again. Good. And maybe that's what he's saying too, and it's not exactly dirty, but it's better than Wham! hits.

His lips are dry. There's sweat at Shawn's neck, and Carlton licks without thinking, slides his mouth up to just under Spencer's ear, and there it is, something that makes Shawn shudder against him and give in like he should.

"Good. Good." Carlton murmurs again, oddly gentle when his hands are hurting Spencer, when Spencer is taking his cock and liking it. Loving it, a part of him adds, and damn it, damn it.

"That's it," he can't help himself, shifting to press himself even closer. A thought skims through the back of his mind, _turns a bright spark into a flame_ and that's it.

His hands are damp, making him hold on tighter, and he's purring, growling, as he kicks out to spread Spencer's legs further apart.

It's the cough that startles him. That nervous, accidental tiny cough that makes him go still as best as he can. Shawn is shivering, begging, in a frantic effort to tell Carlton not to stop.

He can't speak of course, not with Carlton's club in his mouth, but Carlton fans his fingers out over Spencer's skin and then bites down at his neck.

"Shut the fuck up," he manages, just barely, at the squeak of shoes heading slowly and carefully out. Maybe toward the door, and Carlton shuts his eyes at the flash of _getting caught_ and _public humiliation_ and how even that isn't enough to make his hard on go away, or make him pull out of Shawn.

Shawn gets it, eventually, the little idiot, but it's like he can't stop either. His legs go as wide as they can with neon short shorts wrapped tight around his ankles, and thinking about them makes it so much worse.

Someone is right there, someone is _listening_ and Carlton hitches his body forward, his mouth over Spencer's pulse, and straining to only do that.

It doesn't work, because even knowing they aren't alone, Shawn turns his head that barest inch, all sweet, sweet submission and demanding more and Carlton's sucking a bruise for him before he think better of it.

He wonders if it hurts too, and his fingers slide up to Shawn's lower back for a moment, then return to his hip. He rolls forward again, slow, too slow, but Shawn takes that too, and Carlton is barely breathing.

Each movement of Shawn's chest is shuddery, unsteady, and Carlton imagines him biting, biting leaving marks on the club though that's impossible. Or not, because he rocks back, in, in deep, and Shawn starts shaking.

Fuck the gag. Carlton slaps a hand up, the echo on metal startling and humiliating, but he finds one of Shawn's hands, feels the trembling strength just barely keeping Spencer on his feet.

He tightens his grip, still fucking slowly, barely breathing, and lets his other hand fall to Spencer's cock. He squeezes, strokes, the way he'd work that club to intimidate any other idiot, and Shawn's reaction is immediate; tension against him, frantic, frantic breathing around the billy club, ass getting tighter.

Carlton just shuts his eyes and bites down and doesn't stop.

It's too much, everything strangled breath sounding a lot like his name, but muffled, and he pictures cock, cuffs, anything, just _punishment_ and _reward_ how Spencer of course liked it, of course, because he'd been asking for it this whole time and Carlton was an idiot too, and he was going to make it up to Shawn in so many ways when this was over.

"Good, good," he whispers again, and swears when Shawn comes, violently, silently, messily, on the wall in front of them.

He goes weak in the next second, and Carlton shifts him back, half turning him and pulling away the club to plant a sideways, heavy kiss on that mouth.

He comes a few moments later, clawing at a "Choose Life" sweater and ignoring the embarrassed coughing fit outside this space.

There are more footsteps, and Carlton thinks that whoever it was at least had the decency to back off for a few minutes. Maybe it was just someone who had to pee.

Or maybe it was the killer, lying in wait.

The thought makes him uncomfortable, even more than the drying sweat under his uniform or the awareness that he is still inside Spencer.

He moves carefully, slowly, wincing slightly and not letting himself peer through the dark until he'd dealt with the condom, put away his club.

Then he stops, biting his lip. Sometimes...sometimes he imagined things during sex. Crazy things. Like that the other person was as into it as he was, or that it meant more than it did, and this was _Spencer_ after all.

Shawn, his brain reminds him, Shawn. But this is still a filthy public restroom. He is in uniform and he'd used it to...to...do what he'd always wanted to do with Spencer.

When a hand brushes his chest, his flinch is reflexive, before he realizes it's Shawn. Shawn, leaning into him. He’s heavy, putting all his weight on Carlton, and breathing hard.

Carlton's puffing a bit too, but he puts a hand out, feels that stupid Wham! lettering under his palm, and then slides his hand down and underneath it again to touch shivering, damp skin.

"We need to go." He has to say something, and feels Shawn's nod before the man tries to pull away. He immediately stumbles, and Carlton has the guilty thought that he'd just fucked Spencer with no lube and very little prep and naturally, Spencer can't walk just yet.

He also feels a strange heat, and straightens as the excuse to do something else he's always wanted to presents itself.

"Come on," he orders briskly, but quietly, bending down quickly to pull orangey-pink short shorts up and oversized sweater down, to clean Shawn up, protect him.

It's dark, but he goes by feel and Spencer isn't fighting it. When he pauses, when there's little else to do without asking a big, embarrassing question _for any uniform, Spencer? Or just mine?, do I really put the boom boom into your heart?_ he clears his throat.

"Someone's outside. Stay here."

"Like I can move. I've got the jelly legs," Shawn speaks at last, only despite what's saying, he's right at Carlton's back when he moves. On his back really, and Carlton turns to catch him.

"Spencer. Killer, remember?" His mouth is next to Spencer's ear again, over skin probably already purpling. Sore. Shawn shivers and Carlton can't help it, he has to think of words the idiot will understand or he’ll never be able to tear himself away. "I want you safe. I...I'm not planning on going solo."

At least it has the desired effect. Spencer nods again--knocking heads with Carlton just slightly, damn this darkness--and then Carlton can move, putting a hand to his gun as he moves to the door and looks outside.

McNab is standing guard just outside, so red it's visible even with just a streetlight above them. He glances down, and so does Carlton, realizing as he does that his zipper is down.

And from behind him, in what is _clearly_ Shawn's voice, comes the sound of singing.

"…You send my soul sky high when your lovin' starts. Jitterbug into my brain, goes a bang bang bang 'til my feet do the same…! They can dance, we’ll stay home instead!"

"Is that Wham!?" McNab wonders innocently. Carlton would sigh, would punish Shawn, except he’d just done that and Shawn had liked it, and, roughly translated, those words meant Shawn was eager to do it again.

He settles for a nod and “Get back to work, McNab!” and only heads back in to the restroom when the coast is clear.


End file.
